


Beautiful Crime

by peculiarmars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU- Assassins, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Enemies to Lovers, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Inspired by Red Room, M/M, Manipulation, Psychological Torture, Slow Burn, Target!Harry, assassin!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-12-31 09:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12129288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiarmars/pseuds/peculiarmars
Summary: Harry's life consists of a destiny he can only hope to fulfil, the weight of the entire wizarding world rests upon his shoulders.Draco's life consists of targets and corpses, of blood and roses. He knows how the mission will start, and he knows how it will end.Until he doesn't.Discontinued (Rewrite: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12834918)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's me, back with another fic despite the fact that I should be finishing the other ones.
> 
> This fic was heavily inspired by Red Room from Black Widow's backstory, but I made some adjustments so it fits into the wizarding world. This is another long fic, so please comment if you're enjoying it!

The Roses were wilting.

 

It was the first and only change in the room that he noticed. Usually when he was summoned, the Roses would be blooming under the artificial light. But today they were wilting. He wondered why they chose today to wilt. They used to give him something to look at. Now, all he had were white walls and the swirling pattern in the wood of the desk.

 

Draco sat in the chair opposite the Master's desk, nails tapping idly on his knee. He knew why he had been summoned, he always knew. You were only summoned to the Master for a mission or a severe punishment. Despite trying to push the memory away, his stomach still twisted when he thought of his last punishment.

 

However, he had not done anything deserving of a punishment for some months, so knew that he had been summoned for a mission.

 

The door opened behind him and he heard the Master enter his office, almost slamming the door behind him. Draco stiffened, fingers stilling. Angering the Master was never a good thing, especially when the Master was clearly already in a foul mood.

 

"Master Lestrange?"

 

"Draco;" Lestrange said in a clipped tone. "I know you are smart enough to understand why you have been summoned?"

 

"Yes, Master Lestrange."

 

Lestrange smiled like a wolf, showing off his pearly white teeth. "Good. I have no doubt you will do great things for the sake of the wizarding world, young Draco."

 

Draco felt his pale skin flush, and he averted his eyes. Lestrange's praise always made him feel slightly odd. After all these years, he still hadn't determined whether it was a good odd or a bad odd. Maybe both, or neither. After all, good and bad were simply conflicting concepts of morality.

 

"And that brings me to your next target." Lestrange dropped a file into his lap. Draco pulled open the seal and began to read the information on his target.

 

"You want me to kill him." Draco gasped. He closed his mouth quickly when Lestrange glared at him for his outburst.

 

"Perhaps you are not as smart as I believed you to be, after all. No, you stupid boy, I do not want you do kill him. He is of no use to our Lordship dead, is he?"

 

"No?"

 

"No. He is not. I want you to gather information on him. And then, further down the line when the time is right, you can strike."

 

"Do you wish for me to engage the target, or merely observe from a distance?"

 

"Which ever you believe would work best." Lestrange suddenly lunged forwards and grabbed a chunk of his white-blond hair, pulling their faces so close together that Draco could smell Lestrange's putrid breath.

 

"Because if you fail, there will be no place on this earth where I, and our Lordship, will not find you, do you understand? You will be punished every one of your waking hours, until your dying breath. Do you understand me?" Lestrange hissed.

 

"Yes, Master Lestrange." Draco's knuckles turned white where he was gripping the armrests of the chair. "I won't fail."

 

Lestrange released him and waved him away, signalling an end to their meeting. Draco stumbled from his office, heading straight to the training rooms.

 

 

* * *

 

Harry was not having a good day. Then again, he never seemed to have really good days anymore. It wasn't that everything in his life was dull, it was just that Harry found having the fate of the entire wizarding world rest on his shoulders rather stressful. But what sixteen year old wouldn't?

 

Moody was saying something, but Harry wasn't listening. Then someone shook his shoulder and he was jolted back into the present.

 

"Sorry, what?"

 

"Constant vigilance, Harry! The Dark Lord is planning something big this year, but we have no idea what. You all need to be on alert constantly, and no going anywhere alone. Understand?"

 

"Yeah, I understand."

 

"When we do think anything, you'll be the first to know, Harry." Tonks placed a comforting arm on his shoulder.

 

"I know,"

 

There was a lull in the conversation, which was quickly filled by Hermione and Ginny quizzing Moody on what kind of threat the Dark Lord posed this year, while Ron looked at Harry with something akin to pity.

 

He loved his friends dearly, of course he did, but sometimes in the dark corners of his mind, he wished it was someone else who had to be The-Boy-Who-Lived. He wished he could be reborn far far away, where the Dark Lord could never find him.

 

But then he would look around at his friends and wonder how he could think that. He had people that loved him and cared for him. It was more than what some people had, and he was grateful for that.

 

Realising he had been zoning out again, he snapped himself back to the present, where Ron was arguing with Molly about the three of them going to Diagon Alley together. Molly hadn't wanted them to go back this year. He would never say it to her face, but he thought that was a little but stupid. The Dark Lord would find him whether he went to Hogwarts or not.

 

He was on the verge of zoning back out when he heard Ron win his argument


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos or a comment if you're liking this fic!!

Draco's fingers hovered over the range of silver knives laid out in front of him, pausing before selecting one of his favourites. The blade was long, sharp and serrated. He had used them on missions before, and knew just how easily the blade could tear through layers of skin.

 

He had just picked up the blade when he heard an intake of breath behind him. He turned to find Pansy standing behind him, staring at the blade in his hand with envy. The blade Pansy usually used had been snapped on her last outing, and she had taken to using the one in Draco's hand for training. He didn't offer it to her, instead waiting for her to choose.

 

"You didn't hear me come in." She commented as she picked up a knife smaller and slightly sharper than his, perfect for throwing.

 

Draco readied his arm, half closing one eye as he focused on the head of his target.

 

"I never do." The knife landed through the face of the dummy with a thud. Pansy raised an eyebrow.

 

"Impressive."

 

Draco shrugged and went over the dummy and plucked the knife out of its head. He looked towards the training mat then back at Pansy.

 

"Do you want to practice hand to hand? Without knives?"

 

"Sure," Pansy dropped the knife back on the table. She followed Draco over to the mat and they began circling each other, fists raised as shields.

 

Pansy struck first. She raised her leg and aimed a sharp kick at the side of his head, which he ducked just in time. He lunged at her in the second she was off guard, and only just managed to miss her retaliating punch. She went for his legs and tackled him to the floor, climbing on top of him and punching him in the face. Draco reached up and forcibly shoved her off of him, jumping to his feet and circling her again.

 

At the sound of the door opening Draco turned, keeping Pansy in his line of sight.

 

"Yes?" He barked at the hulking boy in the doorway.

 

"Miss Lestrange wants to see you." Greg said, glancing at Pansy. Draco nodded and waved him away. Greg wasn't as smart as him, Pansy, or Theodore, neither was Vincent. They were good at hand to hand combat and could be absolutely brutal if they needed to be, but they lacked the brains to be a favourite of the Masters. Him and Pansy were constantly fighting for that spot.

 

He turned back to Pansy just in time to see her foot fly up to his face.

 

    

* * *

 

He never knew what to make of Mistress Lestrange. He had only met her a handful of times, and to him, see seemed to be not entirely sane. He didn't know that much about the woman, only that she was married to Master Lestrange's brother, Rodulphos, and that she was sent to Azkaban prison for supporting their Lord. Mistress Lestrange didn't act like she was just a follower, she acted as if she was completely devoted to him. Maybe she was.

 

"Ah, ickle Draco," Mistress Lestrange crooned at him. That was one of the things he truly disliked about her. She treated him  - and the others, he expected - like they were mere children. Draco was her equal, they had both served their Lord and killed to make the world a better place for wizards. He wanted her to see him as her equal.

 

"Yes, Mistress Lestrange?"

 

"Call me Bella, dear." She smiled, putting him on edge. "I hear my brother-in-law has selected you to do a very special job. He seemed to think you may need a little guidance."

 

Draco bristled. He didn't need guidance. Especially not from a near stranger.

 

"I already have a plan to infiltrate the school and do what has been asked of me." He countered. Miss Lestrange smiled wider, showing her rotten teeth.

 

"But surely you could use a little help?"

 

Draco knew the woman was not going to drop it, so nodded and let her 'advise' him.

 

"I happen to know of a simple way to get into Hogwarts, and to get others into it."

 

"So do I. Hogsmeade has several tunnels that lead into the main school." He elaborated.

 

"I know an even better way. It's in Knockturn Alley." She began. Against his will, Draco found himself curious to hear more. He had only ever been to Knockturn Alley (and by extension Diagon Alley) once when he was twelve, and had never had the time to explore the streets properly. It had been an interesting place, from what he had seen of it.

 

"There's a shop, Borgin and Burkes, that would do your bidding if you show them your mark. In the back of the store there's a vanishing cabinet. There are two of them in total. The other one is in Hogwarts. I would of had someone tell me if it had been moved."

 

Draco considered what she had said. He had to admit, her plan was fairly decent. If he came to Hogwarts through a vanishing cabinet then it would be impossible to trace. He ran the risk of bumping into somebody if he used the tunnels (not that he couldn't simply dispose of the body, but that would create suspicion if a student were to suddenly vanish).

 

"However. . ." Mistress Lestrange continued, "it is broken."

 

"Then how-?"

 

Mistress Lestrange waved her hands, poking him in the chest with her wand.

 

"I've been informed that your magic is smart. You'll know how. Go tonight." She ordered. She gave him one last poke with her wand and then stalked from the room, her heels clacking down the corridor.

 

  

* * *

 

Fully cloaked with their hoods raised, Pansy and Draco stuck to the shadows as they made crept through Diagon Alley, towards Borgin and Burkes.

 

Almost every shop was closed. The windows in most of them had been smashed and the glass littered the cobblestones. The street was almost empty, a far cry from the busy, colourful shops Draco remembered. Perhaps he was remembering it wrong.

 

"Ollivanders! Everyone used to get their wands from him!" A girl across the street exclaimed. She was with two other people, a ginger boy and a boy with dark hair and glasses. Draco and Pansy ignored them and continued their way through the shadows.

 

Draco turned into an alleyway and brushed past the beggars that donned the street corners. At the very end of Knockturn Alley, a saw a dimly lit shop with 'Borgin and Burkes' painted in cursive above the windows.

 

The pair made their way to the shop. Draco was paranoid that someone was watching him. He had been watched so often that he knew the feeling. But no matter how many times he had turned to look, there was nothing.

 

Draco immediately set his eyes on Mr Borgin. He was a thin, frail looking man. He paled when he looked them up and down.

 

"Mr Borgin," Draco said, pushing his hood down. He saw Pansy do the same beside him. "there is something in this shop that interests me."

 

"And what would that be, Mr. . .?"

 

"Names are not relevant. Though, this might be." He yanked up his sleeve, exposing Mr Borgin to the ugly brand on his forearm. The man's eyes went wide and he took a step back.

 

"Fenrir Greyback is also a friend." He added, wanting to scare the man further. The more scared he was the less likely he was to do something stupid, like tell an Auror.

 

"Greyback, you say? Well, yes, certainly. . . Whatever you two need, j-just take it and you can have it."

 

"My thanks, Mr Borgin."

 

He and Pansy left Mr Borgin quivering behind his desk and went up the stairs. When he had came in he had done a mental scan of the first floor and hadn't seen the cabinet.

 

He looked around the second floor for all of two seconds before finding what he was looking for. He walked towards the cabinet and ran his hands over the exquisitely carved wood. In his peripheral vision he saw Pansy stop by the window and close the blinds, then come over the cabinet.

 

"Are you certain this will work?" She questioned. Draco nodded.

 

"Mistress Lestrange suggested it and I don't believe she would set me up for failure. I do think we should check the tunnels as a back up plan, however."

 

"I'll have Theo do it. What about the Hogwarts train? Should we intercept it? If we do it correctly then we could kill The-Boy-Who-Lived before he even reaches Hogwarts."

 

"My job was to spy, not kill. And he is supposed to be saved for our Lord." He reminded her.

 

"I know, but I do wonder sometimes. . ." She trailed off, leaving the thought hanging between them.

 

"Don't." Draco stopped her. "We know what happens to those who wonder. And to those who fail. . ."

 

Pansy put a hand on his shoulder.

 

"You won't. You've never failed before, and you're not going to now. You're certainly not going to fail our Lordship."

 

* * *

 

 

Across the street, Harry stared at the couple in confusion.


	3. Chapter 3

  
The trio trudged through the desolate street that was Diagon Alley. Fred and George's shop had been the only bright place in the street. Almost every other shop was closed, and the ones that had dared to stay open watched people go past warily. It was a far cry from the vibrant street, alive with people, that Harry had been introduced to when he had been eleven.

 

"Ollivanders!" Hermione exclaimed, looking at the smashed windows of what used to be the old wand makers shop. "Everyone used to get their wands from him." She walked into the shop, Harry and Ron following behind.

 

The shop was no longer filled with wands and had lost the magical air that it used to have. Now, it was just empty. Empty wand boxes cluttered up the floor and glass crunched under Harry's trainers as he looked around the rest of the shop. It looked as if Ollivander had left in a hurry.

 

Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw something flicker across the street. He turned to the window and watched as two figures, clad in dark green robes with their hoods raised, walk through the shadows of the street. Harry was finding it hard to keep track of them, they blended into the shadows so well. He frowned. That didn't look suspicious _at all_.

 

"What're you looking at?" Ron asked from behind him. Harry nodded at the pair.

 

"There are two people across the street," He said. Ron squinted.

 

"Are you sure?" Harry pulled his invisibility cloak from his pocket and threw it over his and Ron's shoulders. Hermione looked up from the book she had found amongst the glass.

 

"What are you two doing?"

 

"I'll explain in a minute, get under." Hermione pulled up the cloak and slipped under it, muttering something about the things she did for them.

 

With Harry leading, the trio followed the pair through Diagon Alley and into Knockturn Alley. They followed them as they pushed past the beggars that littered the poorer street. Harry stopped in his tracks when the one at the back abruptly turned and stared directly at where they were crouched under the cloak. He stared at them for a few seconds, and Harry was sure he had seen them somehow, but then he turned and continued down the street.

 

The trio watched them enter Borgin and Burkes. Thinking fast, Harry slipped the cloak off of his shoulders and climbed up the roof of the abandoned shop next door, trying to listen to their conversation with Mr Borgin. He casted a super-hearing charm and listened closely.

 

"And what would that be Mr. . ." He heard Mr Borgin say. He could just make out the outline of one of the people.

 

"Names are not relevant, but this might be." Harry saw the figure pull up his sleeve and show Mr Borgin something. He knew what it was without looking. "Fenrir Greyback is also a friend."

 

"Greyback, you say? Well, yes, certainly. . . Whatever you two need, j-just take it and you can have it." Harry heard Borgin stutter out. Next to him, Ron and Hermione were watching with the same mix of confusion and curiosity as him.

 

"My thanks, Mr Borgin." Harry decided that one of the figures was definitely a boy, his voice was too deep to be a girl.

 

They disappeared to the back of the shop and then reappeared on the second floor, and Harry saw that their hoods were down. The shop was dimly lit and he couldn't make out their exact features, but the other figure was a girl with short hair cut just above her shoulder. The boy, who Harry could see had abnormally white hair, went straight over to a cabinet. He ran his fingers over the intricate designs carved into the wood. The girl was watching him, then she turned around and looked through the window right at their hiding spot. Harry ducked just in time.

 

When he looked back over at the shop windows, the blinds had been closed and the charm had broken.

 

* * *

 

Mistress Lestrange was waiting for them when they got back. Or, more specifically, she was waiting for Draco. She let Pansy go with a wave of her hand, her other hand gripping his arm painfully as he was frogmarched to Master Lestrange's office, which he had guessed was now his sister-in-law's as well.

 

Mistress Lestrange fell into a chair beside a large, cracked mirror. Draco sat opposite, feeling of place. He had only ever sat in front of the desk before. He didn't like breaking the tradition.

 

"Well? Did you find it?!" She questioned.

 

"Quite easily." He shifted in his seat, wanting nothing more than to leave. He had never seen Mistress Lestrange punish one of them, yet she made him so uncomfortable anyway.

 

"And Mr Borgin? What did the rat say?" She leaned forward in her chair, a manic gleam in her dark eyes.

 

"He didn't say much of anything."

 

Miss Lestrange cackled. "The rat always did bow at the slightest pressure."

 

The door swung open and Master Lestrange, dressed in his finery, strolled in, narrowing his eyes at the pair.

 

"Bellatrix," He greeted curtly. "my brother did not inform me that you were here."

 

Mistress Lestrange leered at him. "I wasn't aware that I needed permission to visit my brother-in-laws little darlings."

 

"Of course, Bellatrix, you do not. I would simply like to know who is here and who is not." He turned to Draco. "It went well?"

 

"Yes, Master Lestrange, it did." Draco confirmed. Master Lestrange nodded.

 

"Our Lord requests your presence. He is in the Duelling room. Come, Draco."

 

Grateful for the excuse to get away, Draco practically jumped out of his seat. Master Lestrange walked him to the Duelling room, and then opened the door and shoved him inside.

 

"Ah, the young prodigy." The Dark Lord hissed, Nagini uncurling at his feet. Draco quickly walked to the centre of the room and kneeled, next to the others.

 

Gregory, Vincent, Theo and Pansy were already kneeling. Theo glanced at him as he went to his knees, and the others made no sign of noticing his presence, to focused on the Being in front of them.

 

"Mister Draco," The way the Dark Lord said his name made him suppress a shiver, for reasons he didn't know. The Dark Lord had that feel about him. "Have you found a way into Hogwarts?" Draco didn't know why he was even being asked. If he hadn't, he had no doubt that the Dark Lord would be punishing him.

 

"Yes, my Lord." At the Dark Lord's silence he elaborated. "The vanishing cabinet in Borgin and Burkes. If I fixed it I would be able to get your finest through the wards."

 

"And until then?"

 

"I can use the tunnels underneath Hogsmeade to gain access to the castle."

 

"And when the time comes, you'll do what needs to be done?"

 

"Certainly, my Lord." He promised.

 

* * *

 

" _Est autem recta et honesta mori pro domino meo,_ " Draco chanted with the others that morning before training. He was first up against Vincent, which was easy as he was quick and lean. Vincent was a decent fighter but had a stocky build and moved slightly slower than him.

 

It was a ritual they had done for as long as Draco remembered, and probably before even that. Every morning before breakfast they would train. In the early days Draco remembered a frail boy who was a year younger than him, who was disposed off for not being able to fight properly. That was all the motivation Draco had needed.

 

He didn't want to end up with a bullet in his head. Or a nasty curse or spell.

 

Master Lestrange stood off at the side and watched them train. Later, they would be given their wands and would duel in the room was also serving as the Dark Lord's headquarters.

 

"Draco, Theo" Someone grunted from the doorway. All five of them turned to the towering form of Fenrir Greyback, leering at them.

 

"Bella wants you. She has a job for you both."

 

Draco and Theo nodded, following him out of the room, both feeling the stares of the others linger on their retreating backs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Est autem recta et honesta mori pro domino meo : It is the right and honourable to die for his master (Latin)


	4. Chapter 4

  
They were back in Master Lestrange's office. It was slightly odd, he had rarely been allowed entrance to the room for years, and then had been called in multiple times in a matter of days.

 

Greyback was in the room with them, opening leering at him. He seemed to not even notice Theo. Draco was resolutely ignoring him, glaring at the wall instead, actually wanting Mistress Lestrange to hurry up.

 

When Mistress Lestrange did eventually stroll in she immediately waved Greyback away, who leered at Draco one last time before disappearing from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

 

Mistress Lestrange rolled her eyes at the rude gesture and gracefully draped herself over the chair behind the desk, gesturing for the boys to sit opposite her.

 

"I have a little job for you two," She said. "I have an item, which I would like you to take to Gringotts bank and put it in my vault."

 

"Your vault, Mistress Lestrange?" Theo queried.

 

"Yes, dears, my vault. It's located behind many powerful wards and goblins, so for obvious reasons, I can't simply walk in myself." She doesn't elaborate on why she can't simply walk in herself; neither he or Theo asks. Mistress Lestrange flicked her wand and a silver cup flew into her hand. Draco could make out the carving of a badger on it. Draco thought that a badger was too soft of an animal for Mistress Lestrange.

 

"I assume you have both used Polyjuice potion before?"

 

Both boys nodded simultaneously. Mistress Lestrange grinned.

 

"Good, this will be much easier. You are both to be impersonating blood relatives of mine, Narcissa Malfoy and her husband, Lucius. Currently, they're in France, but they have a large sum of money in Gringotts bank. Imperio the goblins if you must."

 

The idea of Mistress Lestrange having blood relatives was strange. She was the type of person who Draco couldn't picture ever having a family; a bit like the rest of them. He wondered how they were related. Maybe a cousin, or a sister? Definitely not a daughter.

 

"But I want this back in my vault by the end of the week, understand?"

 

"I understand, Miss Lestrange." Theo and Draco both said.

 

Miss Lestrange sent them back to their classrooms, which was Russian language. Draco's Russian was flawless, as he had found out on a mission last year. He had been first taught English, then French, German, Russian, Spanish, Mandarin, Kanji, Italian and Latin. He had been the most gifted when it came to languages, easily remembering hundreds of phrases and their meanings. Theo had been second to him, taking only a little longer to learn Mandarin.

 

After Russian they had a History class. Draco found history classes very interesting. He loved hearing about the goblin wars and the witch trials. Recently, though, their history lessons centered around the Dark Lord. He could recite what Master Lestrange was telling him off by heart, he had been told it so many times.

 

After Russian they had another combat session, and he and Theo were up first as they had missed the morning session.

 

Draco was always wary of training with Theo. Vincent and Gregory were easier to beat; they threw their weight around too much. Pansy was more difficult, and faster like him. But Theo had always been difficult to beat in combat. He didn't have the brains of himself or Pansy, but he had the stamina.

 

Draco and Theo circled each other at first, hyper aware of every move being watched.

 

Theo struck out first, and Draco just managed to duck. He took too long to retaliate; Theo hooked his leg under his and flipped him over embarrassingly quickly. Acting fast, Draco jumped up and punched his fist into Theo's nose, hearing a sharp crack. Theo stumbled backwards, and Draco struck again, kicking his knee into Theo's groin.

 

"Well done, Draco." Master Lestrange said from the side lines. Theo glared at Draco as blood poured down his chin.

 

Next up was Gregory and Vincent. While they were fighting, Draco attempted to catch Theo's eye. He only managed it for a second, and tried to convey as much as an apology as he could into a fleeting look.

 

Draco watched as Gregory trumped Vincent. Pansy was up next, fighting against Gregory. Their fight took slightly longer than the others, and ended with a triumphant Pansy and a bruised Gregory.

 

Draco noticed that Master Lestrange had seemed slightly disconnected during their sparring. He wasn't as focused as he normally was, and Theo, Gregory and Vincent weren't even reprimanded for their failures. Perhaps the Dark Lord had planned a particularly difficult mission for him. He had always been slightly off when mentally.

 

And that night, as he lay in the dark with his hand cuffed to the bedpost, he stared up at the ceiling and thought of a plan to get into Mistress Lestrange's vault, and to complete his real mission. He had promised Master Lestrange that he would not fail, and he would not break his promise.

 

  

* * *

 

  
_20th March, 1993_

 

_"Why the kid?" One of the men asked gruffly._

 

_"Boss's orders."_

 

_"Seriously? He looks too dainty to do much of anything." The man laughed. Draco tried to ignore them, staring out over the snow covered railway, waiting for the  train._

 

_His mission was to take out a man named Isaac Chekov. He was in his early fifties, and had been somewhat famous a few years ago. Master Lestrange had ordered Draco to take the finishing shot._

 

_He was perfectly capable of doing the mission himself, but Master Lestrange had insisted on having the two older men join him. He would of much preferred Pansy. She was nowhere near as annoying as the two men yammering above him._

 

_He heard the rumble of the train and steadied himself, preparing for the jump. If he timed it correctly then he would land on the roof, if he didn't then the train would crush him to death._

 

_The train thundered past as Draco leapt from his ledge above, landing on the roof of the train with a soft thud. The two men had stayed on the ledge, waiting for Draco to be finished. They were so well hidden by the snow that he couldn't actually see them, if he didn't already know of their presence then he would of never of guessed._

 

_Draco silently walked the length of the train, counting the carriages. The train was one for the very rich; Chekov had his own compartment. All Draco had to do was open the hatch in the roof and fire a bullet into the man's skull._

 

_It was hardly difficult work._

 

   

* * *

 

  
"So, who do you think those people in Borgin and Burkes were?" Harry questioned, speaking more to himself than his friends. Ever since getting back from their visit to Diagon Alley Harry had been hounding them with questions, even though he knew they wouldn't know more than he did.

 

"They could be Death Eaters, yeah, but I don't think Death Eaters would be so blatant about it." Ron said thoughtfully.

 

"They must be! He showed Borgin his arm and threatened him with Greyback!"

 

"Well, yeah, but we told the Order. If they are Death Eaters than the Order will find them and arrest them."

 

"I think they're a little too young to be Death Eaters, don't you? I only glimpsed the girl for a second, but she didn't seem much older than us." Hermione pointed out.

 

She was reading the Daily Prophet, and the title caught Harry's eye.

 

_**Break in at Gringotts! Aurors puzzled! More on page three!** _

 

"There was a break in at Gringotts?"

 

Hermione nodded. "That's what they're saying. They don't know if anything has been taken yet, but they think it might be Death Eater related."

 

Harry knew he should be interested in a literal break in, but at the mention it could be Death Eater related he couldn't help but think about the two figures in Borgin and Burkes shop.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment or kudos if you're enjoying this fic!!

"Did you do it?" Mistress Lestrange demanded as soon as they entered the office, having been summoned straight away.

 

"Yes, Mistress Lestrange. It is done." Draco said, his voice having taken on a more feminine touch. The second batch Polyjuice potion hadn't worn off yet and he was still in the form of Narcissa Malfoy and Theo was still Lucius Malfoy.

 

"And the goblins?" She pressed. The manic gleam in her eyes was back, Draco noted.

 

"We _obliviated_ one. The rest were none the wiser." Theo answered. Mistress Lestrange nodded.

 

"Good, good! I suspect it'll be all over the Prophet tomorrow." Mistress Lestrange chuckled. Draco had no idea what she was talking about, or who the Prophet even was. She held out her hand, and they dropped the wands they had been using into it. Before the Malfoy's had left the country, for a reason Draco did not know, they had been using the wands they had used today. For some reason they had been left behind when they fled.

 

"Ah, and Draco, Pansy wishes to speak with you, about the cabinet. I suggest you run along." She waved them away.

 

Neither boy spoke as they walked to the training rooms, the last of the Polyjuice potion finally fading away from their features. It felt a little strange, first having his masculine body change into a feminine one, and then even stranger when changing back just as he had started to get used to it. Still, he was glad he had his real face back.

 

Pansy was training by herself with a bow and arrow, while Gregory and Vincent sparred in the corner. Theo went over to them and began stretching.

 

"Pansy," Draco said. She didn't pause for him as she pulled back the string, realising it just as fast. The arrow whistled through the air before it landed in the head of the dummy.

 

"Draco," Pansy lowered the bow. "I know you have just gotten back from a mission, but you may need to go on another."

 

"The cabinet?"

 

"You should go, and be quick about it. Just make a few small adjustments. We can take the Hogsmeade tunnels until then, but it would be too obvious if we were to try to get the Dark Lord's army through that way."

 

"I agree, I'll go as soon as I get approval from -"

 

A dead silence fell over the room as Master Lestrange entered. Gregory and Vincent dropped their hands to their sides, Theo stopped mid-stretch, and Draco and Pansy froze where they stood.

 

"The Dark Lord has requested you to attend his next meeting." He informed them. "Go upstairs immediately and clean yourselves. Put on your formal robes and make sure you look presentable." Master Lestrange ordered, looking the woman's robes Draco was still wearing up and down, before vanishing.

 

The five of them remained frozen for all of two seconds before hurrying out of the training room and to the dormitory. Someone had unlocked it for them, usually it was only open at night.

 

Draco reached under his bed, the one second closest to the wall, and pulled out a small box from under his bed. The box contained his mask, and his best set of robes, which he had only worn once in the past, and carefully took them from the box, mindful to not get them creased.

 

Some time ago when Draco had been very young, he had found a shiny silver pocket watch on the ground while on a mission. Draco had liked the design and the way the hands moved so effortlessly, liked the steady _tick tock_ , and had slipped it into his pocket. He had felt so special, having something that the others didn't. He had hidden it in the bottom of the box, thinking that the Masters wouldn't look there.

 

He had been wrong. Two weeks after he had taken it Master Lestrange did an unexpected search on the dormitory, and had pulled the pocket watch from the box, right in front of Draco and the others. Draco remembers Master Lestrange's angry voice, demanding Draco tell him where he had gotten it. It wasn't until he had slapped Draco in the face with such a force that Draco had struggled to stay upright, that Draco had told him about the mission and how long he had had it. Master Lestrange had dropped it on the floor and stepped on it, crushing the delicate gears and glass. The beating he had gotten when Master Lestrange had dragged him to his office afterwards was enough to ensure that Draco - and the others - would never hide anything again.

 

Shaking himself from the memory, he hurried to the showers with the others. After a quick shower he smoothed down his hair and got dressed into his robes, and placed his perfectly moulded mask on his face.

 

The met Master Lestrange outside the showers, and he linked arms with Vincent and Apparated him to the Dark Lord. He Apparated back a moment later and took Gregory, then came back for Theo and then Draco.

 

The room he was Apparated to was dark, devoid of all natural light. Candles left a soft glow on the walls. There was a whoosh of air next to him as Master Lestrange apparated with Pansy.

 

Master Lestrange gestured for them to follow him down the dimly lit hallway. Although he was focused on where he was going and what was to happen in the meeting with the Dark Lord, he couldn't help but find himself fascinated by the house they were in.

 

Currently, it didn't look very homely, but it could be. Almost every cabinet and portrait was covered in a thin sheen of dust, having not been touched in a long time. The portrait stared at them in confusion as the six of them walked past.

 

Master Lestrange stopped by the door. He looked them all up and down before turning the handle and leading them in. He walked to the Dark Lord's chair and knelt.

 

"My Lord, you wished to see the children at a meeting." He said.

 

The Dark Lord smiled, red eyes glinting.

 

"Yes, I did. My thanks, Rabastan. You have served me well. Come, children, sit." He nodded his head to the vacant chairs behind him. The five of them sat quietly and waited instruction, feeling the stares of a dozen other people scrutinise them.

 

"Bella, your plan is going well?"

 

"Yes, my Lord." Mistress Lestrange grinned, from the right of the Dark Lord, directly opposite Draco.

 

"Draco and I have been plotting," She added. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw a man with greasy black hair stiffen and slowly turn to look at Draco. The others didn't seem to be affected by whatever Mistress Lestrange had said that had shocked the man.

 

"Is that correct, young Draco?" The Dark Lord drawled.

 

"Yes, sir." He replied, not entirely sure on how to address him. The Dark Lord reached out a hand and ran his cold fingers down Draco's face. Draco froze, never had someone touched him there so gently. The Dark Lord dropped his hand away just as quickly.

 

"Rabastan, how efficient would you say your. . . children are?"

 

"Very efficient, my Lord. I am sure you heard about young Draco eliminating Isaac Chekov, a prominent thorn in our side?"

 

"Yes, I did hear about that. Very pleasing. What about the others, the girl, for instance."

 

"She is on par with Draco. She took out the French Minister of Magic only last year."

 

"Ah, that is good to know." He turned to another man, as if he had abruptly forgotten about them, and began speaking.

 

"And how is your plan to . . ." And Draco wasn't listening properly anymore. He knew he should be. He should be gathering more information and waiting to be asked a question; instead he found himself simply gazing around the room like a bored child.

 

If any of them noticed he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention they didn't mention it. The other members of the Dark Lord's inner circle were unmasked, however he still didn't recognise any of them.

 

He was snapped back to the present by Pansy's sharp nails pinching his thigh under the table, and realized that Vincent had been asked a question.

 

"Of course, sir. It would be an honour to die for the right cause." Vincent answered. Draco could feel someone's smirk resting on him.

 

"And the rest of you, do you agree?" For some reason, Draco felt as if the Dark Lord was only looking at him. But that was a stupid thought. Why would the Dark Lord single out him?

 

As one, they nodded.

 

"It is right and honourable to die for my master." They recited, in English this time. The Dark Lord looked over them, the corners of his mouth turning up to reveal pearly-white teeth.

 

   

* * *

 

The very next night saw Draco heading to Diagon Alley, alone. The streets below him were completely barren. He had been been watching Borgin and Burkes for an hour from his perch on a nearby rooftop, and after seeing that no one would interrupt him whilst he was working, he silently jumped onto the roof of the shop and slipped inside an open window.

 

Draco had told Mr Borgin to keep one of his windows open to make an easy entrance for him and to ensure that he would never be interrupted.

 

But _something_ was wrong. He could feel it in the very air of the room. He scanned his eyes from left to right, finding that the room was empty of anyone except himself.

 

Yet, the hairs on the back of his neck had raised, and his instincts told him to run. He didn't. He couldn't just rely on instincts; they could be wrong (although they had usually been right in the past). He took another step forward and heard a quiet intake of breath, so quiet that he almost missed it. But he never missed.

 

He turned so his back was facing the source of the noise, and acted as if he hadn't heard their breathing. He waited, feeling the miniscule vibrations in the floorboards as somebody attempted to creep up behind him. When they were close enough Draco sprung into action, jabbing his elbow into the being's side and then pushing them away, only to lunge forward and stab a blade deep into their stomach.

 

The person he had stabbed gasped and stumbled backwards into the cabinet, and their glamour dropped as Draco fled through the window at the back of the shop. He caught a flash of pink hair and then he was gone, leaping across the rooftops to the only safety he knew.

 

Except he had failed. And failure only invited punishment.

  

* * *

 

 

He knew, really, that he shouldn't eavesdrop on Dumbledore and Snape, but it wasn't his fault that they were talking about something that sounded important, whilst he just happened to be outside his office.

 

"Severus, we don't know for sure. We can't do anything even if you are right." He heard Dumbledore say.

 

" _Can't do anything_?" Snape hissed something that Harry couldn't quite make out.

 

"- he's just a boy! Just like your precious Potter!"

 

"He was involved in the attack, Severus. Her memories confirm it. He's too far gone, even if you managed to escape with him. We don't even know if she'll live, the wound was severe and she lost a lot of blood before he could rescue  -"

 

Harry had had enough, and flung open the door to Dumbledore's office.

 

"What happened? What attack? Who might not live?" He said quickly, looked between Dumbledore and Snape.

 

Dumbledore looked calm and composed, and at a first glance so did Snape. Then Harry looked closer and saw that Snape looked slightly unkempt, his greasy hair ruffled as if he had been tugging at it, his complexion paler than usual.

 

"Sit down, Harry."

 

Harry sat in one of the chairs opposite Dumbledore's desk. With each word Dumbledore said, Harry felt more and more like he was going to be sick. He wished he had simply kept his mouth shut about the boy in Borgin and Burkes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if your enjoying this fic please leave a comment or kudos!!
> 
> (I changed the name of this fic from 'In the dead of night' to 'beautiful crime' because I feel like it fits better.

"Don't blame yourself, Harry." Hermione said, rubbing his arm in a way that was meant to be comforting. He supposed it was, if hadn't already been feeling as if he was about to be sick. Ron had his arm around his shoulders.

  
"Yeah, it wasn't your fault. We all told Moody about them." said Ron.

  
"I was the one who made you follow-"

  
"You were curious! Anyone would've been in that situation, and they were actually doing something likely Death Eater related." Hermione insisted.

  
"I need some air." Harry untangled himself from his friends and grabbed his invisibility cloak as he quietly left the Gryffindor common room, not wanting to alert any portraits or Professors on night duty.

  
He didn't wander in any particular direction, but somehow found himself at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower. Sighing loudly, for he knew no professors were around him, he began to make the long trek up the steps.

  
He wasn't alone when he got to the top. Headmaster Dumbledore stood at the railings, staring out over the school grounds.

  
"Harry," He said wearily. Harry pulled the cloak off.

  
"Sir," He greeted.

  
"I expect you wish to know more about Miss Tonks' attacker?"

  
Harry nodded. Even though Dumbledore wasn't facing him he knew he would understand. Harry went over the the railing next to the old Headmaster.

  
"This is something, Harry, that you cannot tell anyone. Not even your friends."

  
"I understand, sir."

  
"We know that Nymphadora's attacker was a boy, perhaps the same age as you. He's magical, and his magical core, from what they managed to trace, is very strong. That is, however, where they - the Order - have ran into problems."

  
Harry leaned forward, suddenly not so tired anymore.

  
"The boy's magic may have been strong, but it is completely untraceable. Whoever he is, it is as if he has simply appeared from thin air. Which, may not be quite true.

  
Over the last few years, there have been reports of political killings organised by a group called Red Room. It started as a Muggle conspiracy theory, however, a few recent events in the past years caught the eye of the magical community. At first they seemed to be random, but a couple have been able to have linked up to the Dark Lord's followers." Dumbledore told him.

 

For a moment, Harry was too shocked to say anything. Red Room? Political killings? It was something Harry would never of suspected of anyone who weren't Death Eaters.

  
"You said he was around my age, sir?" Harry questioned.

  
"Indeed, Harry, I did. The people who actually do the killings are rumoured to be children or teenagers. I'm afraid that that's all the information I have. Harry, do get some sleep." Dumbledore said. "You won't be exempt from classes, and will likely be able to visit Nymphadora at the weekend."

  
"Yes, sir." Harry said, his mind still reeling with the information that the people who were doing these killings were just teenagers themselves. He couldn't imagine murdering someone who wasn't You-Know-Who. He wondered what Red Room was, really.

  
   

* * *

 

  
"Master Lestrange," Draco said meekly, keeping his eyes fixed on the man's receding hairline. His eyes were filled with far to much fury for Draco to look at.

 

"Draco." Master Lestrange spat. Draco barely contained his flinch. Master Lestrange grabbed his chin in a bruising grip and pulled him closer until they were nose to nose. For a second, Lestrange's furious gaze met Draco's terrified one. "Anything to say?"

  
"My-My apologies-" He stammered. Master Lestrange swiftly backhanded him across the face. He feels his cheek redden and knows it's going to bruise. He doesn't speak again, knowing any sound he makes is futile. Master Lestrange has made up his mind, and it is Draco's job to simply take whatever punishment he is given.

  
"Strip." Master Lestrange orders. Draco pulled off his robe and dropped it at his feet before bending down to untie his shoelaces. He pulled them off his feet, taking his tunic down with them, until he is standing in front of Master Lestrange in only his undergarments. Master Lestrange raises an eyebrow, and Draco yanks them down too.

  
Master Lestrange nodded his approval, then gestured for Draco to follow him. And really, what else could he do?

  
   

* * *

 

  
"Master Lestrange, I believed I would be going with Draco." Pansy said upon hearing that she and Theo would be scoping out the tunnels in Hogsmeade.

  
"He will join you both eventually. He is indisposed at this precise second." Master Lestrange had said casually, making Pansy's stomach churn unpleasantly at the thought of what might be happening to Draco. She had been punished before, they all had, but none of them had ever fucked up such an important mission. She wondered if he would still be in one piece when he was returned to them.

  
She and Theo were to head out tonight to get a quick look at how far the tunnels went inside of Hogwarts. She didn't know if Draco was still going to fix the Vanishing Cabinet, but hoped he was. If the tunnels didn't work, then without the Vanishing Cabinet they may not even have a way into Hogwarts.

  
  

* * *

 

  
He had known what it was as soon as he had set eyes on it. And he knew exactly what it was supposed to do to him.

  
He had never known it to be used on one of them, but he had been told about Sensory Deprivation tanks enough times for Draco to be reasonably terrified. He knew, that left alone for a short period of time may be fine, relaxing, even. But for an extended amount of time. . .

  
He couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't feel anything.

  
He was blindfolded and breathing through an oxygen mask. He had ear plugs in, and was unable to hear even the closest of sounds. He had been spelled to lay in an odd position so that none of his limbs or fingers could touch each other and give him the contact he would need so desperately.

  
Master Lestrange had left nothing to chance.

  
He tried counting. He said phrases in all the languages he knew. He recited facts about the Dark Lord. He recited all his past missions. But eventually the only thing that was left was the never-ending nothingness.

  
Draco screamed and screamed and screamed, yet heard nothing except a sharp ringing, drilling painfully through his skull.

  
He was going to go mad.

  
Or maybe he had gone mad already. Maybe he was only a remnant of himself. Or a ghost.

  
The thought made him scream again, it made him struggle and flail. It incited more and more panic until -

 

He was twelve years old and in Diagon Alley, slipping a book into a girl's cauldron. He was eight years old and in Italy, slipping something into a man's drink and then running off. He was thirteen and shooting Isaac Chekov in the head, he was nine and throwing a knife at a boy not much older than him.

 

And then it was simply dark.

  
It felt worse than death.

  
   

* * *

 

  
It was night when they reached Hogsmeade. Theo and Pansy silently walked past the closed shops and were making there way through the snow when they heard a muffled voice say;

  
"You 'eard anymore about that boy?" Theo and Pansy ducked into a doorway to listen. The conversation was taking place outside a pub by two men, one far too tall to be normal, and one with a false eye.

  
"Nothing. We're still looking, and Borgin ain't being much help,"

  
They were talking about Draco, she realised. She unconsciously leaned in closer. 

  
"The magic is almost untraceable, but Tonks' is recovering fine. He probably didn't even know she was there, he left in a hurry and hasn't come back yet."

  
So that was why he had failed. He had been set up. Pansy slipped a knife from her holster, tempted to take the men out there and now, however rational thought stopped her. If they were murdered in Hogsmeade then it would be impossible for them to get back in.

  
They waited in the doorway for another fifteen minutes, until both men finally moved on. Once she was sure they had left, she and Theo slipped out from their hiding place and trudged through the snow to the rickety building named the Shrieking Shack.

  
She had no idea where the 'shrieking' came from. It was completely silent, the only sounds her and Theo's minute intakes of breath.

  
Together, they made their way down into the basement. In the corner of the dirty room there was a small hole, big enough to fit someone of her size but not much bigger. She crouched down at the mouth of the tunnel, whispering Lumos.

  
"Theo," She said. "stay here. I'll go down here. Alert me if something happens."

  
Theo didn't say anything, just left to stand by the basement door. It didn't cause her any concern; he had always been the quieter one out of all of them.

  
Wrinkling her nose at the foul smell, Pansy began crawling through the dark tunnel, only able to see a foot or so in front of her. She crawled for what felt like half an hour, until she was able to stand.

  
Something moved out of the corner of her eye. She glanced around quickly, but the room was completely empty. It happened again, from above her, and she realised that it was merely a shadow of a large tree. The tree branch swung around, narrowly missing the roof of the shack, and she noticed the strange absence of wind.

  
Which made absolutely no sense. If there was no wind, then how could the branches be swinging so wildly?

  
She pulled open the small door and leapt backwards as a thin branch whip the ground next to her, almost slicing into her boots. Another, larger, branch came after it, denting the floor as it slammed into it with force.

  
Pansy scrambled back into the tunnel and began to crawl frantically away from the tree - which must of been sentient - and back into the Shrieking Shack.

  
"What's the matter with you?" Theo queried when he saw her dishevelled state.

  
She shook her head as she caught her breath.  "We can't use the tunnels. A tree tried to kill me."

  
"A _tree_?" He said incredulously. She nodded.

  
"A tree tried to _kill_ me." She repeated.

  
"You're explaining this to Master Lestrange." Was all he said as they left the way they had came.

  
  

* * *

 

  
Harry dreamt of a boy with white hair, around nine, talking with a small boy in a fancy suit. Harry didn't understand the language, but gathered that they were friendly enough.

  
The smaller boy whispered something, causing them both the laugh. It looked completely normal, but there was something wrong with white's eyes. They looked far too devoid of anything. The rest of his body looked alive with emotion, but his eyes were dead.

  
Weren't the eyes supposed to be the window to the soul? Or something poetic like that?

  
The scene suddenly changed, and Harry was thrown into another room, a bedroom, with the same two boys. Harry and the smaller boy jumped as a round of thumps sounded from under their feet. The smaller boy whimpered, running to the door, but white grabbed the collar of his suit and pushed him backwards with enough force to send him toppling to the floor. The smaller boy pushed himself to his feet and ran for the balcony door.

  
Harry watched with horror as white took out a glittering knife from his boot and drew back his hand. Before Harry could even shout a warning to the smaller boy, the knife had sailed through the air and embedded itself in the back of the boy's skull.

  
White calmly walked up to the boy's corpse and yanked the noise from his head with a sickening squelch, and then simply left the room, the child's blood stained onto his hands.

  
Harry woke with a gasp and a searing pain in his skull. He moaned, fumbling for his wand on his bedside table. He couldn't understand what he had seen. It felt and looked like a memory, but no way could it of been the Dark Lord's-

  
A recognisable, raspy voice broke through the pain in Harry's head and spoke;

  
_And you will lose everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Draco is punished with is a sensory deprivation tank. Sensory deprivation is used as a form of psychological torture.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment if you're enjoying this fic!!

"Don't you dare say this is your fault." Was the first thing Tonks said to him when he visited that Saturday. She was sitting up in bed, and if Harry hadn't of known better than he would've said that she was completely fine. Yet he knew of the deep wound underneath the standard St Mungos patient gown.

 

"I didn't even say-"

 

"No, but I know you, Harry." Her features softened, "And I know you felt responsible because you were the one who saw those people, but it's not your fault."

 

Harry sat down in the chair opposite her bed.

 

"Are you okay, though?"

 

Tonks waved a hand at him. "I'm fine, the stab wound is healing fine. The only bad thing is that it's so bloody boring around here. Though, Remus has been keeping me entertained." She winked and Harry pulled a face.

 

"Ugh, too much information."

 

Tonks snickered, obviously enjoying the way he flushed red.

 

"But seriously, I'm doing fine. And they'll get whoever did it, don't worry." Tonks tried to reassure him, but it did nothing to quell down his anxiety. Her would-be killer was still on the loose, still working for the Dark Lord. And the killer was dangerous and no one would say if or when he would strike again. But he put on a happy face for Tonks.

 

"It's good to see that you're healing well."

 

"It wasn't too bad, not really. I mean, it was deep and bloody - and I'm making this sound even worse, aren't I?"

 

"You are, a bit." Harry agreed, chuckling. It was nice to do that genuinely.

 

They talked and talked all afternoon, yet consciously avoided the elephant in the room. Harry wasn't sure if Tonks had been told about Red Room. He decided not to mention it anyway, as Dumbledore had said not to tell anyone. It would of been nice, though, to have someone to tell.

 

He was still wondering if he should of asked about Red Room when a nurse came and him that visiting hours were up.

 

* * *

 

 

There was nothing left. The emptiness had swallowed everything up, leaving him to float around the empty universe, screaming and screaming until his voice was taken from him.

 

The feeling of fingers on his skin made him buck and cry out behind the mask before it was ripped from his face. The blindfold was torn off next, and he screwed his eyes shut as they were assaulted by the harsh lighting.

 

He shivered as he felt strong arms haul him up and over someone's shoulder. He was carried down a long corridor and then through a doorway and was then dumped at what he knew would be Master Lestrange's feet. He jumped as the door slammed shut, the noise rattling through his head.

 

"Ah, Draco." Someone hissed. Draco sat up straighter. It wasn't Master Lestrange's voice, it had sounded like -

 

"I see you have been punished adequately." The Dark Lord hissed, his cold breath brushing against Draco's cheek. He resisted the urge to scurry backwards.

 

"Yes-Yes, my Lord." He croaked. He squinted through his lashes and saw the red eyes staring down at him, a horrible smile fixed on his face.

 

"You have done well, Lestrange." The Dark Lord said, gesturing to him with his wand. "I trust you to do just as well in the future." The Dark Lord disappeared, leaving the smell of burning wood in his wake.

 

Master Lestrange turned to Draco and glared at him with such fury that Draco wished he had been left in the tank. He didn't say anything as Master Lestrange stepped towards him so that he was towering directly over his shivering form. Draco made an involuntary sound in the back of his throat as Master Lestrange's hand darted out and grabbed a chunk of his hair.

 

"Do you know-" He snarled, spit spraying into Draco's face, "-what your fuck up could have cost me?" Draco wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer or not, so opted to stay silent.

 

"Everything!" Master Lestrange shouted. Draco flinched. "All because you didn't do your job properly. You know what the price of failure is? Pain. Lots of it. Rabastan?"

 

Draco hadn't even noticed the other men in the room, but now he did. There were three of them. Rabastan stepped forward, and for a second Draco thought that he could've passed for Master Lestrange's cousin.

 

"Make him hurt." Master Lestrange ordered, his face carefully blank. It was for punishment, he knew, but he couldn't help but think Master Lestrange enjoyed giving it to him a bit much.

 

It was his last coherent thought before a fist slammed into his chest, followed by another, and another, and -

 

   

* * *

 

 

Pansy was trying to be gentle with Draco, but at this point she thought it was impossible. His white skin was almost completely grey with bruising, and he winced whenever he moved. One of his eyes was swollen shut and he was squinting out of the other one, his bottom lip puffy and crusted with blood.

 

They had been sparing for an hour, the loser fighting the next one as always, and it had been Draco every single time. He was too battered to do anything but duck and dodge, and he failed at that half the time.

 

"Pansy!" Master Lestrange barked. She stilled and turned to face him. "Stop holding back." She didn't try to argue back and say she hadn't been. Instead she turned to face Draco, who was gritting his teeth. Waiting for the pain to hit.

 

"I'm sorry." She mouthed, not daring to put any sound into the words. She drew back her fist and swung at him. He attempted to dodge, yet the edge of her knuckle caught his chest and he stumbled and only just managed to right himself.

 

"Draco!" Master Lestrange snarled. He stepped into the ring and grabbed him by the ear. He whispered something and Draco's eyes widened. Master Lestrange marched from the room and Draco scrambled after him, trying to limp inconspicuously.

 

Mistress Lestrange stepped into the ring, her hair bouncing like a main around her face.

 

"How are your duelling skills, my dear?" She tossed her wand and Pansy grabbed it from the air.

 

"Excellent." She replied without preamble. Mistress Lestrange smiled, showing off her yellowing, decaying teeth.

 

"I sure hope so,"

 

  

* * *

 

 

Pansy was ridden with sweat and blood. She peeled off the robe and stepped into the shower. When Mistress Lestrange had requested a duel, she certainly hadn't expected it to turn into a hunt.

 

Lestrange had taken her to a small Muggle village, not too far from Hogwarts itself, and told Pansy to choose one. She had selected a girl of around the age of ten, with red hair braided into plaits which dangled down either side of her pink cheeks. She had wandered off from her parents, and well, hadn't they taught her to not go wandering off in the dark?

 

She had been stupidly easy to take. Then again, most Muggles were stupid. They had proved that time and time again.

 

Under the water she washed off the remainders of the little muggle girl's blood. Mistress Lestrange had allowed her, the best dueller of the group, to test how good her curses were. The girl was sobbing at the start, and screaming by the end. When Mistress Lestrange had finally had enough of the shrieks she had allowed Pansy to slit the girl's throat.

 

Now, scrubbing the remainders of red from her finger tips, she wondered if the girl had had a name. Not one like hers, that she changed for every new mission and outing, but a real one that would remain hers until she died. There was always a small part of her that had wondered about how living like that was like.

 

She wondered if anyone would miss her.

 

But then she would quell down those thoughts, because living as a muggle was like signing your own death certificate. She didn't need parents. Family was a weakness, along with sentiment and morality. It would get you killed one day.

 

She turned off the shower when her skin was warm to the touch. She wrapped herself in a towel and picked up her robe. She was one foot out of the room when she heard a quiet sniffling sound.

 

She silently put her robe on the damp floor and padded back into the showers. She turned a corner and spotted where the soft sound was coming from.

 

Draco stood naked under one of the shower heads, a small pool of blood at his feet. He was crying as quietly as she could, his entire body was black with bruising. Pansy had thought the parts she had seen had been bad, but it was nothing compared to this.

 

Black bruising ran up the backs off both his legs, red welts mixed in between. His back was painted with blacks and blues and fresh scars. Master Lestrange had spared nothing with his punishment.

 

"Draco," She called. Draco sucked in a breath and turned to face her, grimacing. He didn't say anything. Pansy walked towards him until the spray from his shower hit her too. She had the sudden urge to cup his face, yet knew she couldn't without pressing down on a nasty bruise. "Come to Hogsmeade with me." She said without thinking. Draco looked at her, unspoken questions in his eyes.

 

"I have a plan." She lied.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the people who commented!

Draco slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning under the thin blanket. He couldn't stop worrying about Pansy's plan. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he just didn't want to earn another punishment so soon. It would takes weeks of rest for him to heal the injuries he had already, and he wouldn't be getting any more rest then was necessary. If he could train, then he would, no matter how much pain he was in.

 

He avoided Pansy that morning, in fact, he avoided everyone. It wasn't that they usually talked further than planning missions and training techniques, but he wouldn't even look at them. He knew Pansy noticed. Nothing slipped past her, but she didn't comment on it, and that he was grateful for.

 

It was when the clock in the History classroom struck three in the afternoon and they gathered up their books and went to the changing room that Pansy finally cornered him. She made sure the others had already changed before closing the door behind her. Draco wished they could lock it.

 

"You've been avoiding me," She says matter-of-factly. Draco makes no move to argue with her. He just stands there, watching her carefully. There is a slightly darkened patch of skin on her shoulder from training yesterday. It's nothing compared to how his own body looks.

 

"I'm hesitant about this plan of yours." He admits when she says nothing more. Pansy nods in understanding.

 

"It's nothing too serious, just surveillance." She explains as she leans closer, not wanting any body else to hear, even if they're the only two in the room. "We can play on time that way, so when it starts to get serious you'll be healed." She whispered.

 

"Master Lestrange-"

 

"Master Lestrange wants you to prove that you're good enough. This is how."

 

"The others-"

 

"- Will take turns in surveilling, too. It's not just us, but when the war is over, it will be our plan that won it." Pansy says, as if she knew all the questions Draco would ask ahead of him asking them. She most likely did, Pansy was inquisitive like that.

 

The door swung open and Theodore raised an eyebrow at their close proximity. They jumped apart, which made them look even more suspicious.

 

"Master Lestrange says he will flay the both of you if you don't hurry up." Theo said flatly, slamming the door behind him. Draco and Pansy both hurried after him, Pansy walking slightly slower than usual so Draco could keep up with his limp.

 

Master Lestrange glared at him when they entered, eyes sweeping over Pansy completely. Mistress Lestrange beside him, waving her wand at Gregory and Vincent as they trained together. Draco winced in sympathy for them as he realised she was throwing pain hexes at them. Then he winced in sympathy for himself when he realised it was going to be him soon.

 

"Ah, Pansy, dear!" Mistress Lestrange warbled from across the room. "I've been waiting for you! I believed it would be good if I taught you one on one for a while, your curses are almost impeccable." Draco couldn't help the tiny stab of jealously at how Pansy got to be excused from training.

 

"Take Draco with you." Master Lestrange ordered, taking Draco by surprise. He didn't elaborate on why but Draco thought it might of been because, even if Master Lestrange was still angry and wanted to hurt him, he recognised that it would just make Draco's take longer to heal.

 

Mistress Lestrange lead them to a room smaller than the training room, but big enough for a duel. There was a small platform, and Draco remembered practising ballet on it to improve his grace and to make sure he was flexible. They didn't do much actual ballet anymore, but they still did the stretches.

 

They were ordered to stand one metre apart in the middle of the room, weapon less with their hands at their sides. Draco wasn't sure what to expect. Was she expecting them to duel with wand less magic? Was she going to curse them and see how much they could take?

 

"Legilimency!" Mistress Lestrange hissed at him without warning. He didn't have time to Occlude before he felt Lestrange running amock in his memories

 

_"Sie haben uns für die Nacht verlassen." He whispered to Pansy, who was standing next to him, looking at where his bandaged hand rested on the doorknob. His hand had been sliced with the knife of one of the men they had killed while fighting them. They were on the outskirts of Cologne, awaiting extraction the next day. The men they had been with had left the basement of the safe house, locking them inside the single room for the night._

_Pansy stepped closer to him, so close Draco could smell the faint scent of strawberries from the perfume she had been wearing to blend in earlier._

_"Wir sind allein?" She said. We are alone? Draco nodded._

_The rest of the night passed in a blur as Lestrange skimmed through the memory, leaving him with fleeting feelings of a mouth on his, warm skin pressed together, awkward fumbling and the feeling of absolute bliss-_

 

Draco resurfaced with a sharp gasp. He sucked in a breath, shivering from the memory. Mistress Lestrange cackled with laughter.

 

"Having naughty thoughts, Draco?" She jabbed him with her wand, still cackling. Draco flinched, and she laughed harder. "My, my, what a bad pair of children you are?" Draco could feel Pansy's sharp gaze on him, and he thought to keep his gaze neutral. That had been _private_. He didn't have any secrets except from that night. He wasn't _allowed_ any. Master Lestrange would kill him if he knew what they had done, even if there was chance of Pansy getting pregnant. Master Lestrange wouldn't hesitate to castrate him if he knew. His fear must of shown on his face, or Mistress Lestrange was still partially inside his head, because she pats his head condescending and says

 

"Don't worry, I'll keep your secret." He doesn't think she's telling the truth, but has no option but to trust her and hope she doesn't tell.

 

   

* * *

 

 

Three days after the disastrous Legilimency session, Draco and Pansy still hadn't spoken about what Mistress Lestrange had seen. In fact, they hadn't spoken at all. They had been busy, Draco trying to find ways to train with as minimal pain as possible and Pansy putting more detail into her plan. He and Pansy were to be the first surveilling pair, and were leaving in two days. They had already figured out the glamour's, and were just waiting for the next Hogsmeade day.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sie haben uns für die Nacht verlassen - They left us alone for the night
> 
> Wir Sind allien? - We are alone?
> 
> (I don't speak German, so if there's a mistake please tell me.)
> 
> This chapter is shorter than I wanted it to be, because the next chapter goes into why Red Room exists and how they were trained.


	9. Chapter 9

He watches them carefully from the shadows. He notices every stumble, every hesitation, every imperfection. In time they will be corrected. They will be his army, and he will lead them into glorious battle, and the mudblood's and blood traitors will perish at his hand.

 

They already are enslaved to him without even knowing it. He wagered that if he gave them freedom they would come running back. Yes, these children were not made for living, they were made to be led, by him and then, of course, the Dark Lord.

 

He remembers every day of training, every punishment and every improvement. He remembers dangling pieces of praise just out of their reach; it made them so desperate. It's a thrill to know that these deadly children need him like fire needs oxygen. Without him then the would vanish into nothingness, lost with no guidance.

 

They need him to punish them. They need him to order, to train and to instruct. They need him to pick out targets.

 

Clearer than any of those memories is the day Red Room was founded. Kidnapping the babies from their cribs in the middle of the night, waiting until they were old enough to walk to start training. There was one, a girl, who had too many tantrums and exhausted him. He got rid of her swiftly. He has so place for rebels.

 

Countless appeals by the Malfoy's for their son, he's just a baby, please help us find him. In the following years they had moved to France and had another child, a girl who he believed was called Cordelia. There was a mention of another younger child which he hadn't paid much attention too. The Malfoy's were hardly a threat, at least not anymore.

 

The Parkinson's had been the same, appealing with the Malfoy's until they too immigrated, this time to Japan. They had family there. There was another child, Macario, who was eleven. The Goyle's had been murdered by an unknown killer when they chose to stay in England. They would've been too risky to have as Voldemort supporters while their son was right in front of him. The Crabbe's had moved to Italy and hadn't had any more children. The Nott's divorced and Theodore's father married an Icelandic pureblood and had two children. Theodore's mother remarried, a muggle of all people, and had two children with him. She moved to Belgium, and rumour had it that it was because she was being threatened.

 

The parents had given up on their once-precious children. In a way he is doing them a favour. If he hadn't raised them in Red Room then they would have been raised as spoiled brats with no skills in combat whatsoever. They would've been so vulnerable.

 

Bellatrix cackles from the side of the room and Pansy and Vincent stop. Bellatrix gestures to Pansy and she steps out of the ring, dutifully following Bellatrix. Bellatrix knows something he doesn't, but he's too proud to ask.

 

Draco steps into the ring with Vincent. Throughout the match he can see that Vincent is trying to go easy. It's funny really, how close the children are without even realising it.

 

Remembering an urgent duty, he steps away from the doorway and leaves them to fight. A hidden portrait would tell him if something he needed to know about happened, like a conversation.

 

It wouldn't do good for them to develop a mind of their own now, would it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is super short sorry!! leave a comment if you enjoyed


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